


The House Wins

by sparkinside



Category: AFI
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:58:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkinside/pseuds/sparkinside
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You don't have to be alone to be lonely, you might as well give in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The House Wins

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing in this piece ever happened. I claim no ownership nor do I make any sort of profit from this, other than pride and a sense of amusement.

His fingers tapped softly against the worn wood of the table. It had been something his mother left to him. Tattered and beaten from one too many childhood games, it was certainly not a sight for sore eyes but it still stood and probably would long after he was gone.

He never really let himself think on such things. The past was in the past, there was nothing to be gained from looking back on it. Some days that way of thinking was easier to bear. It was what he knew, he didn’t allow himself to question it. Not when he had built a lifetime on its back.

The sun was just starting to rise behind him, creating streaks of light across the table as it shone through the blinds. He watched as those lines slowly grew, feeling the warmth washing over him. He should have been in bed hours ago. He should have been lots of things. 

Knowing it was far too late to attempt sleeping now, he pushed himself from the chair, busying himself with making breakfast. He fumbled with the coffee machine first, needing his caffeine above all else. Especially after another sleepless night. 

He shook his head. Why he allowed himself to be tangled up in this, he probably would never understand. But it wasn’t completely his fault. True, he could have told him no. Could have simply shut the door in his face, something he thought of often whenever he came knocking...But he hadn’t. 

_“What are you doing?”_

_A smirk was the only reply he received in return._

_“Hunt, please. Not now. You said it yourself, it’s done. Just don’t.” Jade shook his head, moving to close the door._

_But Hunter had no desire to stop this. Not this time. Whatever it had been between them hadn’t worked. Not that he had expected it to. He wasn’t meant for relationships, they never worked. But sex...Sex was something he knew, something he could understand. Sex worked. He threw his hand up, stopping the door mid swing, a gleam shining in his eyes, “I don’t think so.”_

There was something about Hunter. The way he cocked his head. The way he could stare through a person. The way he smiled. It was impossible to say no. Maybe not impossible. He shook his head, hoping that the action would suffice at clearing his thoughts. This was not the track he needed to be going down, not now. What was done was done and he couldn’t change it. There was no rewind feature, not in his life.

It was over. This was over. Why couldn’t he let himself understand that? This wasn’t going to lead him anywhere. Sighing, he sank back into his seat. He could hear the soft hum of the coffee machine behind him. It’s hisses and sizzles filled the air. Within minutes the strong aroma began clouding the air. He inhaled, hoping absently at the scent itself would at least jump-start the waking up process within him. So far it hadn’t, but a small part of him remained hopeful. 

Pushing himself to his feet once more, he fumbled towards the refrigerator, pulling out a carton of soy milk he prayed hadn’t gone bad on him yet and a package of bagels. Not the most distinguished of breakfasts, but it would do. He needed to force himself to go shopping one of these days. What little food supply he had left in his cupboard was slowly, but steadily dwindling. 

Turning back, he eyed the pot silently deciding it had filled enough to risk pouring a mug. Reaching up blindly, he groped for the nearest mug, grimacing as he brought it down to inspect it. One of Hunter’s. One of the many things the man had left behind when their relationship had turned sour. 

The decent thing to do would be to pack it up with the rest of his stuff and drop it off at this apartment. But that would involve seeing him and right then that wasn’t something he believed he could do. If he wanted to cut ties he couldn’t keep going back to him. Couldn’t keep letting him in each time he dropped by.

Hell of a lot of good I’m doing on that one, he thought with a grimace, rubbing his shoulder. It was still aching from last night. Probably bruised. If he rolled up his sleeve and took a good look in the mirror he knew he’d find bite marks mingled in with the bruising. 

_Scorching heat overwhelmed him. Hands roughly clawed at his tattered shirt, ripping it over his head._

_Teeth nipped roughly against his skin. Biting. Bruising. Claiming. His body was on fire. Harsh panting filled his ears, ghosting over his shoulder._

_“Fuck.”_

_The lips curled into a smile against the skin of his neck. A rough bite followed. “Soon.”_

A shiver ran through him. He was far too caught up in all of this. It was ridiculous. Reaching for another mug, he shook those thoughts away. Focusing on that, on him would get him nowhere. It wasn’t worth it. 

The steam rising from the mug as he sat back down at the table danced before his eyes, mingling with the cooler air around it. He raised the mug to his lips, grimacing lightly as the hot liquid burned his lips and throat. He hadn’t bothered to put any sugar or creamer in it, the bitterness something he craved as of late. It was strange, but he didn’t allow himself to think on it. 

Another sip and he pushed himself to his feet once more, making his way back to the fridge grabbing the bagel he’d forgotten on the counter. He wasn’t overly hungry but knew that he needed something on his stomach. He was thin enough as it was, it was something he’d heard many times from countless people in his life.

Shaking his head, he settled back in front of his coffee, picking at the bagel sitting before him. A few bites and he shoved it aside. He wasn’t hungry. He never seemed to be hungry anymore. Pushing himself to his feet, he took what remained of his coffee and poured it into the sink. What had worked to calm him before now turned his stomach. Just as well.

Dropping his mug in the sink, he slowly made his way from the kitchen. He couldn’t spend the entire day hiding in there, as tempting as the idea was. Hiding didn’t solve anything. He ran his fingers through his messy hair and slowly walked into the livingroom.

Nothing much had changed. The magazines still lay scattered across the top of the coffee table, pictures and various books rested haphazardly next to the small television he’d bought years before. It wasn’t much to look at but it still worked. 

This was strange. How could everything just remain the same when he knew nothing was? Shaking his head, he pushed on, leaving the room behind him. 

_A trail of clothing fell behind them. Shirts, socks, pants. Inhibitions followed._

_Each bite, each lick, each touch confirmed what each of them knew: there was no turning back now._

He shook his head violently, no this was the last thing he needed to think on. Pushing himself forward, he continued silently into the bedroom, knowing, absently, what would await him there. The sheets still lay tangled, the thin blanket he’d had since he was in college lay half strewn on the floor. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut, hoping that when he opened them again the sight wouldn’t turn his stomach. 

Without a second thought, he tore the covers from the bed, rolling them tightly before tossing them tightly into the hamper near the door. Next he tore the pillow cases from the pillows, not bothering to roll them, simply chucking them into the hamper as well. This was his ritual. He refused to let himself think on it. If he just continued through the motions, cleaned and straightened, everything would be alright. He would be able to handle this. It wouldn’t honestly matter to him.

It was a lie, he knew it, but that didn’t stop him from believing he could make it all disappear. He could do this. None of it mattered. Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the hamper, making his way slowly from the room. Absent mindedly, he grabbed the bottle of half empty detergent from the closet near the front door, ignoring the coat hanging a few inches below it. Hunter’s coat. Pushing the closet door shut, he pulled open the front door, the warmer air from the hallway pouring over him. 

He’d always kept the apartment on the cold side, preferring to grab an extra blanket over stripping down to almost nothing. It simply seemed more practical to him and it certainly helped keep his heating bill low. And some months that was his only saving grace when the bills came due. 

_A sharp hiss. Pushing. Falling. Fear. Exhilaration. Darkened eyes stare down, warm hands tracing over hips, thighs. Bliss._

It never seemed to fail. The more he pushed the thoughts away, the harder they would push back into his mind. A sigh fell from his lips as he precariously balanced the laundry basket against his hip and the wall, pulling his apartment door closed. 

The hallway was empty, something he’d come to expect in this building. No one bothered interacting unless it was of dire need. And that had been part its charm in the beginning. He’d found a place he could disappear into and that was a blessing. Silently he continued down the hall towards the laundry room. 

It was the same routine as it always had been. He would find the nearest machine, place his basket on top of it, dig through his pockets for the correct change. He’d take the time to sort his clothes and sheets, even though it was times like this he simply wanted to shove everything in the washer and just not think on it, load the washers, set the machines and make a quick note of the time before heading back to the apartment. It was familiar, and the familiarity brought comfort. 

Familiarity was sometimes his only saving grace, and more often than not, played a role in his downfalls. Familiarity was what lead him to where he was. To who he was with. He couldn’t fool himself about that. And as long as Hunter continued to return, he knew he would let him in, no matter how it killed him to do so. Fighting against it hadn’t worked. He needed this. 

_Cursing, fingers latching onto dampened sheets. Panting. Silence. Exhaustion echoing throughout the room. Eyes drooping closed. Awakening, silence, cool sheets. An empty bed. Hollow._

He needed this.


End file.
